The 59th Hunger Games: City of Bones
by katnisstribute120
Summary: "This year's games will be held in a confusing map: a city filled with BONES!" the Head Gamemaker exclaims. "With more traps and treachery than all of the other arenas!" Now, twenty-four new SYOT tributes will fight to the death in this especially exciting arena.
1. Chapter 1: Beginning of an End

_Chapter One: Beginning of an End_

 **Hi everyone! Please be supportive of this new HG story, and like if you enjoyed. This is the first of two pre-story pieces, so you will have time to submit your tributes for the SYOT. Thanks!**

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 _Faux Gertrude, District One Male POV_

It's not the early morning sunlight that wakes me up, but something far worse. I've only gotten, like, two hours of sleep last night, tortured by nightmares of Xena's painful death. Normally, I would be on high alert, but fatigue and feelings of loss (towards Xena) and hatred (towards that DEMON OF A BRAT from District 10 that I will kill today) have gotten to me. No, the sun doesn't awake me this time, it's the nearness of a person, and the scent of death. I don't realize this is foreshadowing my own until the shadow stabs her knife into my throat.

 _So this is how it feels to die_ , I think to myself. Oh, the PAIN, and TORTURE! I'm choking on my own blood, struggling for air I know I will never consume. My body seems to be shutting down, the muscles I have had since I was five and training at the academy are useless.

 _No, they're NOT!_ I try to force the child off, realizing she's the horrible one that killed my district partner. But my writing seems to only exist inside my mind, and I can sense no hope. I give in and close my eyes, hoping my sister knows I love her and will never volunteer for this.

BOOM

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 _Cassidy Pollert, District Ten Female POV_

As I walk away from the corpse that used to be my enemy, the one that killed all of my allies, the first thought that comes to mind is ' _You're a murderer_.'

The next… my brother and sister. Then I realize; that boy had a family, too, and I just deprived them of him.

 _Well, it's really his fault, he volunteered_ , a voice at the back of my head whispers, but I know it's wrong. I killed him.

The whir of a hovercraft behind me is distorted through the sounds of my sobbing. Really, I'm officially a murderer now, having killed two people, and I think I've been slowly going crazy ever since the Bloodbath, three and a half weeks ago. I shouldn't be crying. I should just give up. But I have to keep going, for my family, because no matter how messed up I am, they are worth it.

After all, I'm in the final two.

* * *

 _Lubbock Suery, District Ten Male POV_

The cannon jolts me awake. I'm still alive. With one person left.

 _Was it Cassidy or that stuck-up Career?_ I wonder. I haven't seen my district partner since the fifth day, if I remember correctly. Now, she's either lifeless or coming to kill me. I bet the former. Now that bloodthirsty monster will come to put me out of my misery. Won't want to hurry that up, I guess. I'll wait until some awful mutts come and chase me out of the rock wall I'm hiding in.

I quickly fall back to sleep, but the whole time I'm wondering are there bats? Spiders? Monkeys? Killer insects? Coyotes? Cheetahs? Mutants? The list goes on and on as I run away from my worst nightmares.

This time, though, my wake-up call is more abrupt.

The beast is lurching out of the rocks behind me, and the only warning I have is its ear-splitting roar. I don't wait, not even to identify the creature; all my senses go into overdrive as I run to wherever the Gamemakers want the finale to begin. My nightmares could not have predicted even this. From my one glance, the creature is at least twice the size of me, with gray fur to match the rocks. Its heavy footsteps reveal it has four feet and a stampede of just this beast is worse than all the cattle at home.

My only weapon is a knife. I left the other tools and weapons back at my camp. Looking back at the rampaging mutation, I realize there's no way to get them now. I curse under my breath.

I jump over boulders and sprint through tiny streams, all through the parched arena that was my home for almost a month. After a while, I haven't gained any room away from the monster, and it seems as if our destination will never, ever, get any closer. My legs are on fire; the only thing keeping me going is my fear, driving me home and away from certain death. I look back one more time… and fall off a cliff.

 _Really, how could I be so stupid? This isn't for the finale at all, the Capitol just wants to kill me! Why me? Why—_

 _WHOOM._ The ground jerks up to meet me and I roll down a steep hill. There is no question anymore that they want me to live _—_ at least until whoever else fell into this crater kills me.

My whole body is laced with pain, and my lungs are burning for air. I tilt my head upward to see that the top edge of the crater. The breath leaves my lungs; at least twenty of the beasts are prowling up there, making it obvious that my last stand, win or lose, will be here.

"Howdy," a voice calls from behind me. There's no question, that's Cassidy for sure. I'm overjoyed, yet pained; there's more of a chance I will win, not fighting a Career, but this fight will also be personal. Cassidy is in my ranch sector at home, and we're friendly. Now, of course, this will all change.

I pull myself to my feet and grab my knife out of my belt. The first thing I see is my enemy, virtually unrecognisable, covered in mud, sticks, sweat, and _blood_. Is it hers? I don't know. She's obviously injured, but is ready to fight for victory.

We size each other up; she's carrying a long knife - double the size of mine - and a long hemp of rope, which she sets down. Then, without warning, she kicks me in the face.

My nose gushes blood and pain lances my whole head. Cassidy runs at me and twists my arm behind her back. My knife falls and lies abandoned on the ground.

"Aaauuuugghhhhh…," my cry of pain is long and drawn out, but she hangs on, and I can feel my arm about to break.

 _Why do I always get the injuries? Fight back!_ I think. At home, I used to get so beat up...HOME! I HAVE TO GET HOME!

I swing my other arm back at Cassidy's face, but she ducks, expecting it. She loosens her grip on my arm, and the pain stops so suddenly I sigh in relief. But I'm not done yet. I grab some of her hair with both fits and yank it with all my might. Cassidy screams and almost deafens me. She shoves me to the ground, and I pull out some of her short tresses.

Her face reminds me of angry cattle, showing no remorse for those they're about to kill. I don't know how she does not feel pain for her murders.

My enemy shoves her knees into my stomach, and I cough up blood. The sight of it makes me faint. Suddenly, I'm aware of how tired I am, and as I look up at Cassidy, she shoves her knife into my chest.

I just look up, knowing I will die, trying to escape, reaching for my own weapon, because if I can kill her first, I will still be victor and live. All the while, the knife is being stabbed in and out of my body in a completely random assortment.

I'm finally dying. My senses cannot perceive anything but cold and blood. I smile to show my dad that I will die happy, for him.

 _Dad, if you're watching this, I'm sorry._

BOOOM!

* * *

 _Cassidy Pollert, District Ten Female POV_

"Ladies and Gentleman, may I present our victor, CASSIDY POLLERT, TRIBUTE FROM DISTRICT TEN!"

The broadcasted cheering from the Capitol blocks out my cries of hatred to the people that make children die every year. I'm yelling the worst things I can imagine, not caring at all if they hear, because, guess what? I don't even care anymore.

As I killed Lubbock, I felt like it wasn't me, someone else filled with that much rage and evilness. I was somewhere else.

The muttations stay put along the edge, spectators to my final goodbye to the arena, where somewhere, my old self lies, and will never come out again.

I have died just like everyone else.


	2. Chapter 2: A New Horror

_Chapter Two: A New Horror_

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 **Thanks for reading my story so far! BTW, the SYOT form is on my profile, and I will post it in my next chapter. Happy submitting!**

* * *

 _Wraleigh Patron, Head Gamemaker POV_

"So here is where the Games will start…," I say, gesturing towards the point on the projected map in the middle of the plain Gamemakers' room we stand in. "And over here—"

"Now hold on, my dear friend. Tell me, what is the theme of this arena?" President Cornelius Snow interrupts. "We need to show the tributes _this year_ the might of the Capitol, don't we?"

I, as usual, tremble a little when the great President of Panem seems to be at all displeased with me. Last year, my first year as Head Gamemaker, the Victor turned out to be a bold girl. A _very_ bold girl. She spoke out against the Capitol several times on the matter of the Hunger Games. The President and I finally had to, we shall say, shut her up. Her whole family and several of her friends died of a "strange illness" several months after her victory. I'm still worried that the President holds me responsible, but I cannot show it.

"Oh...um...of course...that's supposed to be a secret...but for you, I'll make an exception," I stutter nervously. "It's a city of bones."

"Hmm... I think we can work with that. Tell me more about your plan."

"Well, I was thinking—I mean creating in the arena—more traps and treachery than any other arena!" My voice reverberates around the otherwise empty room.

"You do remember that not so many deaths can be caused by Gamemakers, of course?"

"Yes," I confirm. "These are mostly to unhinge, or even spook, the tributes. A few cause death."

"'Unhinge,' I like the sound of that," is the reply from the President. "You're positive this will give the victor a clear idea of what we will do if they, say, go off the deep end and maybe, _start a rebellion_?"

"Ah...yes...it will. I'm positive." My voice is shaking. He does hold me responsible. I'm sure of it now. I'd better watch my step.

President Snow claps me on the shoulder.

"That's how we want it. Now go enjoy the Games spirit," he advises. "I have some work to do." He and I walk together out of the room.

"Now, you understand what happens if this is a repeat of last year," Snow whispers, clenching my arm tightly to see if I get the point.

I nod, shaking like a leaf, because as he walks down the stark white corridor and gets into an elevator, he's smiling. But beyond that smile is a twinkle in his eye that signifies he would enjoy executing another Head Gamemaker. And I can't resign until I've served for five years; this is just my second. All of those horrible ways...I could be sentenced to die. Help.

"Are you alright, Mr. Patron?" a voice asks from behind me. I immediately recognise it as the youngest Gamemaker on staff, Seneca Crane, at only eighteen years old. I am almost disgusted to be noticed by him, of all people. Some of the other Gamemakers and I joke that he's 'young enough to be a tribute,' but I can't worry about that now. I'm worried for my life.

"Ah, I'm fine," I lie, not convincingly.

He looks me in the eye, then signals and Avox, "Here, get this man some coffee." Mr. Crane whisks off at the same time as the Avox, only in an opposite direction, to his private office.

But all I can think of as I watch him go is, _What have I gotten myself into?_


	3. SYOT Submission Form (!)

**Hi everyone! So...are you ready to SYOT? If you are, here's the form! Please send it to me in mail or as a comment on the story. Now, without further ado:**

 **THE SUBMISSION FORM!**

 **Name:**

 **Age:**

 **Gender:**

 **District (name two preferred):**

 **Description:**

 **Attitude in General:**

 **Attitude towards Games/Capitol:**

 **Backstory:**

 **Family:**

 **Friends:**

 **Strengths:**

 **Weaknesses:**

 **Reaped or Volunteered:**

 **Reaping Description:**

 **Outfits for Chariot Ride/Interview (optional):**

 **Preferred Score/What they did:**

 **Interview Angle:**

 **What to Grab at Bloodbath:**

 **Survival Skills:**

 **Preferred Death (if any):**

 **Allies:**

 **Love? Betrayal? Other interesting Strategies? :**

 **Extra Stuff:**

 **As always, thanks for reading!**

 **LOL,**

 **KatTribute**


	4. Character Availability

**Hello again! It's time to announce our tributes for this year! If you want to submit any more, please choose one of the blanks. Also, reservations cannot be held for over two weeks.**

District One

Female:

Male: Granite Draxler, age 17, by _SevillaBoy_

District Two

Female: Imperia DeStone, age 17, by _ThomasHungerGamesFan_

Male: Eridan Medea, age 17, by _AmericanPi_

District Three

Female: Blaze Arkina, age 15, by _Medicine Cat of the Opera_

Male: Tosh Novak, age 16, by _Twilli Prince_

District Four

Female: Marci Trout, age 15, by _Fire and Flames_

Male:

District Five

Female: Carolina Blake, age 15, by _Skyheart033_

Male: Danny Lervatz, age 14, by _Ah_ _ungergamesfan07_

District Six

Female: Laurel Smith, age 16, by

Male:

District Seven

Female: Cassia Bentlyne, age 15, by _starrymidnight16_

Male: Carrasco Wurst, age 17, by _Twilli Prince_

District Eight

Female: Sakura Zhen, age 15, by _Platrium_

Male:

District Nine

Female: Becca Miller, age 14, by _ThomasHungerGamesFan_

Male: Laurence Florentine, age 13, by _Fire and Flames_

District Ten

Female:

Male:

District Eleven

Female: Sheryl Therminosa, age 12, by _Platrium_

Male: Finch NoName, age 17, by _Silent Ghost_

District Twelve

Female: Angelica Mercedes, age 18, by _calebbeers21_

Male: Ethan Black, age 16, by _Christopher_

 **Please continue to read; I'll keep posting new chapters every week or sooner. Remember to submit!**

 **LOL,**

 **KatTribute**


	5. Chapter 3: District Five Reapings

_Chapter 3: A Try at Confidence_ — _District Five Reapings and Goodbyes_

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 **No, I haven't given up on this story. Yet..(just kidding; where's your sense of humor?). I previously wanted to start the reapings in order, but that just wasn't working out. So, here are the District Five Reapings! Enjoy!**

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 _Carolina "Carly" Blake, age 15, District 5 Female POV_

* * *

My alarm clock (aka my younger brother's screaming) goes off too early. I can see the only clock my family owns that sits in our kitchen if I lean to the left far enough. It's blurry with my bad eyesight, but I can just make out the hands of the clock. Of course, it's only seven thirteen.

 _Aw, come on,_ I think. _The Reapings aren't until much later._

Oh—the Reapings are today! As if on cue, the ansty _Will I be picked?_ surfaces to the top of my brain. I only have eight slips out of District Five's population of thousands of children, but my palms start to sweat, like they do every year until we're standing in the town square, and the stupid, ridiculously-dressed escort picks a yet another girl and boy to die a horrible death.

Of course, the stupid Capitol is at the heart of this. I hate everyone who lives there and works for it with a fiery passion that no bully or enemy in my normal life could match. It's obnoxious, the idiots hate me already and haven't even met me! (sigh)

I push my thin, lanky legs onto the gritty wood floor and hop out of bed, grabbing my thick glasses along the way. I scamper down the hall to the kitchen where Mom is making a signature delicious breakfast. She always tries to make our two meals extra special on Reaping Day, because, well, she likes to keep us in spirit.

My brothers, ten-year-old Harry and eight-year-old Jason, are already chowing down on their mushy pancakes made from some of my tessera grain. They're always the early birds of our family. I used to be, but then I turned fifteen, and started saving every extra minute I have for sleep.

"AHahahahmmff!" Harry laughs.

"What? What is it?" I say, not really worried. Did I mention that he's also the silliest of our family?

"Your hair!"

With a mumble of "great," I stride over towards the closest window and inspect my curly blonde locks of hair. My face reflects against the extremely poor and semi-well-off houses converging on our street. Yup, I have some serious bedhead. I carefully finger-brush most of the tangles away, and, much to Harry and Jason's amusement, pull out some hair more than a few times. It's not like I'm a narcissist or trying to impress everyone, but I know that I'll end up brushing it later for the Reaping. And I really don't want to get food stuck in my hair.

As I sit back down at the small table, Dad comes out and ruffles Jason's short tresses with his hands, scarred from the long hours fixing wind turbines and hydroelectric dam parts. Jason giggles and screams, "Now I'll look just like Carly!"

"Shh…," Dad whispers, motioning towards the room he, Mom, and Michael, my youngest brother, share. Three-year-olds don't like it if you interrupt their sleep, and Michael's no exception.

As Mom dishes out the warm pancakes, I can't help but feel a sense of security. Of course, this won't last for long, since the Reaping is today. Who knows, anything could happen.

 _Well, thank those idiots in the Capitol_ , I grumble in my head.

* * *

 _Danny Lervatz, age 14, District 5 Male POV_

* * *

"Hello? Psst...Theo, Josef, Amber!" I hiss into the semi-darkness of the old powerhouse; I can barely see anything in the dim light that filters through the broken windows covered with yellowing paper.

"Danny!" a commanding but feminine voice answers. Amber. "Come on!"

I hurry to the back of the room where Theo is holding a small candle, and Amber is gathering our weapons for practice. Josef isn't anywhere to be seen.

"Where's J—" I am cut off by a small laugh above my head. I look up and have to squint, but can make out the small figure of my friend. I whistle; he's climbing a thin rope to the ceiling, and is almost there, too.

"Hello down there," he calls. Theo, Amber, and I laugh but quickly stifle our noise. If anyone caught us… Even though it's Reaping Day, there are still those who would report us kids without sympathy, as if they want to increase our chances of dying in the Hunger Games.

"Come down and we can start," Theo says to Josef. He quickly clambers down to meet us.

"So what will we practice first?" asks Amber. Everyone looks at me; I've kind of been the leader ever since I brought all of them together to train. And maybe because I'm the oldest.

"I guess we should start with weapons and then try some survival skills… Maybe hand-to-hand after that? But remember, we have to be back by ten."

Amber, always eager, picks up several small kitchen knives. I once asked why she was so serious about training. She told me that since she's the only girl in our group, no one else can volunteer for her. After that, we all made a pact that none of us should volunteer; we're trying to live. Though we're all best friends and would want to save each other, Theo, Josef, and I agree it would be like throwing our lives away will both hands, even if we are trained.

Josef and Theo grab at the makeshift spear simultaneously, but Theo gets to it first.

"Sorry, I'll give it to you after a few minutes, okay?" he says.

I walk over to the Peacekeeper baton my friends and I once stole for training, pick it up, and whack it into one of the few straw targets hanging from fraying bits of rope. It hits the fabric with a satisfying WHOOMP! I give the target a few more whacks, then reach for the wooden sword (my favorite weapon) and use it to knock out some more stuffing from the target.

Meanwhile, my friends are doing well at their choice weapons, too. Since we've trained on weekends since we were seven, the tools are very familiar to all of us. Except for how to kill with one. Hopefully, none of us will ever have to.

After about an hour - and some idle chit-chat about school, work, etc. - we quiz each other on edible plants.

"Name six common flowers that can be eaten," says Amber, pointing to Josef.

"Rose, elderberry, hibiscus, lilac, dandelion, and...um…"

Theo bursts in, "Violet, or maybe sunflower."

"Theodore Zisner! That was not your question!" says a flustered Josef. "Now see if you can answer this one: what are the three best things to do once you're thrown into the arena?"

"That's not a fair question!"

"Hate to say it, buddy, but yes, it is," I comment.

Theo throws me an offended look, then tries to answer. "Get away from the Bloodbath, climb a tree to scout out the area, and... try to find food?"

"WRONG! But thanks for playing!" Josef mimics some of the weird Capitol gameshow adds we're forced to watch every once in awhile. Kind of funny that we have to provide the electricity for _that_. "I was asking for something like advice to this year's tributes, not common knowledge. Obviously."

Amber and I laugh until she starts choking. Theo and Josef stare each other down the whole time and try to stump the other with more questions, but neither can hear over me and Amber's laughter.

 _If they can't even hear over the laughter… I wonder who else can hear the noise_ … a thought pops up in the back of my head. I immediately know I'm right.

"Shush, everyone! There could be people outside!" I hiss, hushing all laughter with the seriousness of my voice. My friends and I never know if we'll be caught, and take this precaution very seriously. "We need to be home soon anyway, everyone take a different exit."

We tiptoe out of the building. As I pass Theo, he whispers, "See you at the Reapings." I just nod. One thing I'm not looking forward to.

* * *

 _Carolina "Carly" Blake, age 15, District 5 Female POV_

* * *

My plain plaid dress gets even dirtier as my best friend hits me another time with at ball of dust.

"Tilly!" I giggle, tossing a handful at her khaki jumper. She dodges, but my ammo hits the edge of her skirt.

"Carly!" Tilly mimics.

 _Ruining Reaping outfits is fun!_ I think, ducking behind the edge of her house to avoid getting hit by her dust ball. Unfortunately, I also run into her mother, and she takes the full force of Tilly's handful of dirt.

"Sorry, Mrs. Smith! I didn't—are you alright?" I am stopped mid-sentence by seeing that she isn't angry, like I thought, she's laughing, like music of ringing bells.

"Come on, wash up, and then we'll meet your parents, Carolina, on the way to…to...," she trails off. No one needs to say it; the ominous cloud of the Reaping hangs over everyone today. It crosses my mind that my parents are just as worried as me that I might be picked.

Tilly and I clean our faces off with a fancy towel. It's purple, unlike the towel at my house, which are yellowing cream. She's more well off than my family, but really, there's no "upper class" in District Five. At least not like District One, and of course, the Capitol itself.

After we're cleaned off, Tilly's fairly tanned skin and caramel hair contrast against my pale freckled skin and blonde ringlets, but our expressions of joy trying to overcome terror match perfectly.

"Come on!" my best friend shouts, spanking her skirt to get the dust out. I follow suit and skip out the door, as if I were eager to find out who will be going to the Hunger Games this year.

"Going out, Mom!" Tilly calls, not waiting for her mother's reply of "alright." We romp through the dusty streets of our district, between the short wooden houses, and tall factories. The dam that leads to the Capitol, as well as hundreds of electricity-generating windmills loom in the distance. However, none of these can compare to the size of the looming-ness of the Reaping and Hunger Games.

We walk to get checked in, and the censor with a blue light reads off my fingerprint. I've seen the Reapings for the far out districts, and they actually have to prick their fingers and sign in with _blood._ That would hurt. Badly.

"Carolina Blake?" the Peacekeeper at check-in asks. I reluctantly nod, then walk off to join Tilly in the fourteen-year-old section. We're not early, but the actual ceremony won't start until the last few children arrive. I see my parents and brothers in the back of the square and give them a reassuring nod.

Five minutes later, the extravagant escort, Fuchsia Kahle, pops out of the doors. She's actually a minute late, and guess that's because she took some extra time getting dressed; the outfit she's wearing is even more horrible than last year's. It's a creamy, glossy fabric gathered into a giant pink rose around her torso to her upper thighs. Fuchsia wears green tights and brown clog shoes, which are hideous enough, but her face almost makes me gasp out loud. Her eyelashes are extended almost a foot, her hair is a neon pink blob with bees sticking out.

"What is wrong with her?" I gasp to Tilly. She laughs silently.

"Now," our crazy escort states. "We'll begin the ceremony! Starting with: Mr. Mayor, would you like to begin with our great Treaty of Treason?"

"And so it begins..," groans a girl on my left.

After the Treaty reading, the Mayor announces our previous Victors. Of course, neither of them are here; would a Victor want to see the Reapings of those two children they would have to mentor until they died? No.

Then Fuchia walks over to the microphone again. "Let's pick our lovely female tribute first!" Only the Career Tributes' districts—One, Two, and Four—pick males first. All others pick the girls. This confuses me.

The escort digs her perfectly manicured fingernails into the large glass bowl that contains the girls' slips. I begin to shake; I have eight chances to be reaped, forced to fight to the death… could the impossible happen?

Fuchsia quickly walks back to announce the new tribute, waving the slip like the flags of Panem that hang all around the square.

"Matilda Smith! What a lovely name! Are you here today?"

Tilly begins to walk to the stage, her eyes alight with fear. How could this happen, she had half as many slips as me! But it did. I can hear her mother crying, and mine trying to comfort her.

And suddenly, all my hatred towards the Capitol mixes with the friendship I've always felt for my best friend. Us laughing, playing, talking, even today…

Two words pop to the tip of my tongue. Maybe I'm crazy, but I say them anyway.

"I volunteer!"

* * *

 _Danny Lervatz, age 14, District 5 Male POV_

* * *

 _She just volunteered. What the heck?! Is she crazy?_ The thoughts rush through my head as well as in everyone else in the square's. I have never, ever seen a real volunteering in any other districts than One, Two, Four...and now here?

The curly blonde-haired girl walks to the stage, and take her place beside the escort.

"What is your name?" asks the rose-dressed woman. I've never bothered to learn her name.

"Carolina. Carolina Blake," the volunteer whispers, but because of her closeness to the microphone, we can all hear her.

"Ooh, goody! Now it's time for our male tribute!" squeals the escort, pausing to pat the Carolina girl on the head. She grimaces.

A new pale white slip is brought from the bottom of the bowl by flower lady's hand and into the audience's attention. She skips back to the microphone and suddenly a name I have not heard for years is called.

"Daniel Lervatz."

It's my full name, the one only my mother used to call me.

As I begin my short walk to the stage, I glance at Theo and Josef, reminding them silently to stay true to our pact. They stare back at me in equal silence. Josef makes a zipping-my-lips motion, and I nod in response.

 _You can do this. You are trained. You can do this. You are trained. You can do this. You are prepared. Are you prepared to kill, though...? No._

I march to my place next to the giant rose that occupies most of the stage. She grins at me, and the foot-long eyelashes brush my face. "Aren't you cute!" Gross.

Then the volunteer girl and I are motioned to shake hands. "Good luck," I say. Her response is drowned out by the shrieking escort.

"This year's tributes, Carolina Blake and Daniel Lervatz! Let's wish them the Hunger Games luck!"

In response to this phrase that never brings luck anyway, everyone in the audience responds monotonically, "May the odds be ever in your favor, tributes from District Five."

Then we are herded into the Justice Building, with Peacekeeper batons on us at all sides. It's not like I could escape, even though I'm trained to defend myself. The lighting in here is very creepy and dark, even darker than the warehouse this morning. I am grabbed by a Peacekeeper and practically thrown into a nicely furnished room, well, compared to my house. There is only on lamp with a silver moth-eaten shade, two small wooden chairs with intricate designs, and a pale pinkish cream tile on the floor. A key rattles in the door behind me.

 _Great. I'm locked in._

"Family first. Two minutes, make it count, little girl," a gruff voice says. The door is unlocked and in rushes my (not-so-little) nine-year-old sister, Agatha. We share the same brown hair and blue eyes, but she has more freckles and is short for her age.

"Danny! Are you OK?" she says, giving me a big hug.

"Yes." I hug her back. "Agi, everything will be fine, just try to find work and keep your dad alive."

Suddenly, her mood changes. "I have! Without a bit of your help! I've been working for months now, but you never noticed! Every bit of your time was spent other place; if you stay away from Dad, you stay away from me too. I haven't just lost Mom, now you… and you're gonna die and I have to watch on TV!" my little sister sobs, pulling away from me and putting her hands on her hips.

"I won't die…" _Will I?_

"Please try." Agi's tears are falling like a storm. "If you come back, don't avoid me..."

She walks out of the room and waves at me, smiling through her tears. I wave back halfheartedly.

The next visitors are my best friends. All of them mutter reassurances I won't remember, because my next visitor blows them right out of the water.

My dad walks into the room. A burning hate fills me.

"Mitchell," I say.

"Danny, I know we've never gotten along since your mother died… I always meant to make things better if you hadn't ran away all the time—"

"Oh, so now we're blaming it on me! What about when you ran off, forced me to get tesserae to feed us, and everything else!"

"I'm sorry. Please…"

"'Sorry' doesn't cut it!"

"Forgive me for your mother's sake."

I falter and bite back a snarky response. My mom _wouldn't_ want this; me about to kill or be killed, and him about to lose it, but I still can't forgive him.

To my surprise, Mitchell claps me on the back like he used to do when I was six. "Just take this; your mom wanted you to have it when you were nineteen and free from the Games." I take the box he's holding out to me. My father leaves almost immediately.

I watch him go before opening the box. It is a wooden watch with a black strap that I quickly wrap around my wrist. There is nothing else, just the watch, my token for the Hunger Games.

* * *

 _Carolina "Carly" Blake, age 15, District 5 Female POV_

* * *

First my family comes into the room, and Michael starts to scream.

Mom begins: "Why? Tilly's your best friend, but…"

I am shocked. Why does she say that? Stating out loud that you want someone to die, even rather than your own child is, just, crazy!

"I...I'm sorry, I just didn't think about it…," I tell one of the first lies in my life. I _did_ think about it. I am always honest-to-a-fault, but I can't disappoint them.

We sit in silence (except for Michael) until Dad speaks.

"Did we ever tell you about your real parents?"

"No…" _I was adopted? What?_

"They were hung for a crime we will never know, but I'm sure they had that same spirit as you. Your mother and I had just gotten married and had to find work. She saw you at the orphanage while looking to apply, and that was that."

"Whoa, Dad, she's not my sister?" Harry asks.

"Yes, but not biologically," responds Mom.

"By-o-lo-j-ic-al-ee," Harry sounds out the word.

Then I do the thing that surprises me most: I hug them all. Jason screams, "Group hug!" and I let go to laugh.

 _I got my spirit from my parents. The stupid Capitolites can't destroy that._

My time with my family ends too soon. The Peacekeepers at the door drag them out. I hate those Peacekeepers, those evil minions!

Tilly sprints in next.

"My gosh, Carly, you are so brave. You saved my life. I don't know how I can thank you."

"Don't worry, you don't have to thank me. We're best friends and this comes with the package!" I try to cheer her up.

"No, here, you deserve more. Take my bracelet." Tilly hands the intricate silver charm bracelet to me. "Take it."

"You sure?"

"Yes; good luck in the arena. I'll try to sponsor you, maybe even make my own money."

"That's OK, sponsors will be killing to sponsor _me_ this Games," I joke like we always do.

She laughs. "Remember that time when we raced each other around the Peacekeeper boarding and they threatened to put us in the Games and not sponsor us?"

"Yeah. That was your fault. You waved at them!"

Tilly laughs again, then hugs me. "Please come back."

"I will. Just remember not to annoy Harry while I'm gone."

"Consider me warned."

We sit in silence, not finding the words to say anything, but knowing what the other is thinking in the way only best friends can.

Then the words I am dreading come: "Time's up, come out of there, girl." Tilly hugs me one last time, that disappears, saying, "Thank you , thank you, thank you…!"

I turn over the bracelet in my hand. One of the charms has two girls holding hands. Me and Tilly. Another is the word 'family,' obviously bought to mean Tilly's family, but to me it has a special meaning: of the family that I have and the parents I've never met, too.

 _I have to win the Hunger Games to get back to them; my friends and family. But can I really kill a_ person _for them?_

* * *

 **Wow. I never knew what it took to write a story, and now, that was harder than I thought. Thank you to**

 **Comment on:**

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 **-Who do you like better?**

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 **Thanks for reading, and remember to SYOT! Next Reapings are District Three, then District Nine.**

 **BFN,**

 **KatTribute**


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